


Eat Him

by MaverickWerewolf



Series: Song of the Stars Vore [3]
Category: Nova Refuge, Original Work
Genre: Bro vore, Bromance, Gen, Mind Control, Mutation, Non-sexual vore, Protective vore, Psychic Abilities, Soft Vore, Vore, safe vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickWerewolf/pseuds/MaverickWerewolf
Summary: John's programming is activated by those who committed the atrocities on him and turned him into their experiment - and he is given simple orders to carry out on Darrow: "Eat him." This isn't meant to be the cuddly kind of 'eat.' But John might have another way out...
Series: Song of the Stars Vore [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096031
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Eat Him

“Eat him,” ordered the towering, reddish nightmare mix of a Slashrim with a Human’s posture and an Achmer’s head and still more tentacles besides.

Then he turned and left the room. He had said it causally, dismissively, knowing the still so much more towering and massive and horrible and disgusting and terrifying fully mutated _oh-God-that-used-to-be-Shephard_ that stood just a few feet away from Henry, there, in his own room on _The Odyssey_ , where by all rights he was supposed to be perfectly and completely safe.

And why couldn’t Shephard disobey?

Because he was programmed.

So Henry was about to die. And yet, he found himself unable to move, standing there completely locked up like a rabbit with a predator bearing down on it. Standing there motionless as if it would help, as if said predator would lose interest and move on.

At least, until he started hyperventilating and screamed at the top of his lungs, backing up hard into the wall like he could flatten himself there and escape— “Shephard – Shephard, if you’re _anywhere_ still in there, for God’s sake, get a grip!”

It didn’t work. That monstrosity took another step toward him, enormous clawed feet somehow barely making a sound when they hit the floor. Its mandibles flared. And it reached out, grabbed him – Henry shrieked – and opened its mouth wide.

That was about the time Henry passed out.

\------------

Except he hadn’t actually expected to wake up again.

When he did, it was terrible. Possibly even worse – no, _definitely_ even worse than staring down Skrakki Shephard. Because the walls had closed in around him, enveloped him in pure darkness, and he could barely— no, wait, he _could_ move, but he couldn’t stand up and there wasn’t much space. Everything was supple. Things around him were moving, but not – _directly_ around him, not against his skin, but there were definitely things moving nearby. In fact, wherever he was, the whole thing he was in was moving.

And he could push around. It was warm – _hot_. And there was no way out.

Henry screamed a horrible strangled noise until he was blue in the face. Then sucked in more air and…

He could breathe? He could breathe.

Had he just been eaten alive? He was going to die slowly in here. He started pushing, shoving, squirming, feeling around—

A voice cut right into his head like a knife, except it didn’t hurt. It just barreled right in and shoved all his thoughts aside, even the sheer uncontrollable terror, and made him freeze up and stare straight ahead into the pure heavy soft humid darkness that he hated, _hated_ so much he wanted to get out oh God.

_“Henry!”_ the voice snapped. It was—

“John?” Henry squeaked.

_“Hi, buddy,”_ Shephard’s voice answered, raspy as usual but somehow manging to sound softer than he’d ever heard it. _“Look, you better hold still or they’re gonna notice I didn’t kill you.”_

This made no sense. What the— “What the hell is going on?” Henry said, his voice still coming out too high and too squeaky and absolutely terrified.

_“Kind of hard to talk like this…”_

“You – you _aren_ _’t_ talking, you’re in my _head_ , and where the hell am I!?”

The pause that followed somehow felt almost embarrassed, and Henry had no idea why he would think that except that John— that _Shephard_ was still in his head. _“Deep breaths, Henry.”_

“That answers precisely _none_ of my questions!?”

_“Will you take it easy – and keep it_ down _?_ _”_ Shephard snapped – theoretically.

“No! Why should I!? Wh—”

_“I_ ‘ate’ _you, genius, you_ _’re inside_ me _, and if they notice you screaming and squirming in there then we_ _’ll both get caught!”_

Henry paused. Settled down again in the… in – Shephard – _Oh God_ , and then curled in on himself slightly.

_“There, see, that’s better,”_ Shephard said as placatingly as he could, but Henry could still tell he was very much on edge. _“You’re in that… pouch – thing. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to kill you, but I couldn’t break the programming. So I… ate you, but I still had enough control to put you in there instead. I guess it’s… out of bounds for the programming, I don’t know.”_

“So I’m – I’m in… you— your pouch, that thing you…?”

Henry sputtered and fidgeted and he could almost see Shephard rubbing his forehead. But Henry’s panic still rose higher, caught in his throat, and he made an odd noise of deep horror and disbelief that he just couldn’t contain.

_“Look, I swallowed you whole; do I need to draw you a diagram?”_

“Oh yes and how would you do that right now, exactly?” Henry snapped, his voice pitching ever higher in panic.

_“Henry, try to bear with me, it’s hard to even talk to you like this.”_

Something in Shephard’s tone – theoretical tone, whatever – made him pause and actually try to settle down. It was actually not so bad in here. Very supportive and supple and no wait he was supposed to hate it. He hated it.

_“You’re safe for now,”_ Shephard said, speaking slowly again and sounding distinctly tired. _“This is… actually the safest place I can think of. These guys are tearing the ship apart. They think you’re dead or… at least – digesting.”_ Something in Shephard seemed to wince at that. _“If I can get you your tablet, maybe you can…”_

His voice drifted. Seemed to fade a little, and everything around Henry shifted just a bit. Panic made his heart pound in his throat. He heard a low sound – a deep, low, pained sound that came from all around him, not human in the least, yet somehow he knew it was John.

“John?” Henry squeaked his name again.

_“I’m still here,”_ Shephard replied, very much tired now, and Henry got the distinct impression he was also in pain in some way or another.

But Henry seriously had to address the elephant in the room. “Shephard, how are you… how are we even talking right now?”

_“It’s all the… physical contact,”_ Shephard answered awkwardly. Henry had a sudden mental image of Shephard with his face turned away from him, like a quick flash in his mind’s eye, and he certainly didn’t think that on his own. _“I’ve got psionics now. When I touch someone, the connection gets stronger, but I, ah—”_ There was a pause. _“I’ve never exactly been able to talk to anyone like this.”_

“Don’t I feel special,” Henry muttered, reaching out to poke at one of the squishy walls around him. Poke, poke, then he ran a finger down it. “This is disgusting.”

That made Shephard shudder, though, and Henry froze up. _“If it’s so gross then stop tickling,”_ Shephard sniped.

“What? I didn’t _tickle_ —”

_“You didn’t_ tickle _tickle, but it— feels_ _…”_ he seemed to lock up briefly before finishing in a snap, _“weird!”_

He _liked_ it. Shephard was enjoying this, he could tell. “Oh God,” Henry blurted, then groaned. “You like it, don’t you? You like this, it feels nice to you.”

_“Henry, can we please_ focus? _”_ Shephard half sighed, exasperated.

“No. No, we can’t focus, because I am stuck in your _stomach—_ ”

_“Not technically—”_

“Your – your – _you_ , and I have nothing to work with and you’re acting like the cat that swallowed the canary! The brilliant genius canary that could solve all of our problems if he just had a computer and if he wasn’t stuffed away in—”

_“Henry—”_

Henry kept ranting; he couldn’t stop now. “Shephard, do you even realize how beyond a new level of _messed up_ you’re achieving with this and how that’s only made worse if you actually start taking pleasure in—”

Some kind of quiet squelch came from somewhere overhead and then the familiar weight and shape of his personal tablet computer fell right down into Henry’s lap. He, of course, screamed at first, but he cut it short. Half a second later, he snatched up his computer and flipped it on, pinching his eyes shut and hissing at how bright the light was after being stuck in pure darkness for so long.

_“Are you happy now?”_ Shephard sniped again.

“No,” Henry muttered, but he promptly settled down and felt a bit of tension leave him. Maybe even relaxed slightly and leaned into… he really didn’t want to think about what he was leaning into, but he leaned into it anyway and it took his weight and spread it all out evenly and even had nice lower lumbar support, unlike his blasted computer chair. And unlike said computer chair had been moments ago, it was actually safe. And he actually _felt_ safe, against all concept of rational thought and good sense, not because he felt safe _inside_ another living thing and certainly not because he felt safe in any small space, but because he was in Jo— _Shephard_ , and he knew that—

Why was he thinking about this?

Without a word, he started tapping around on the computer. He could access everything from here, and…

Odd and foreign amusement tickled at the edges of his brain, and Henry looked up despite knowing Shephard wouldn’t exactly be looking back at him. “ _What?_ ” Henry snapped, like he would every other time Shephard would be peering over his shoulder.

_“Who’s enjoying it_ now? _”_ came a familiar, teasing drawl, and he could all but see that half-smile cocked on Shephard’s face, eyes narrow but smiling under a brow set low with mischief.

Henry locked up at first. Then he scoffed.

“Oh please,” he spat in retaliation, but there wasn’t any heart in it.

Fine. He knew John was the safest place to be. There. He thought it. It was terrible and stupid and he’d thought it anyway and it was the single last thing anyone, especially _him_ , should ever think.

He just hoped John didn’t hear that…

Or that he heard him think of him as ‘John.’

Henry let out a ragged sigh of frustration and only just realized he’d been tapping at nothing in particular on his tablet for a good several seconds now. John seemed to come sneaking back around into his mind, as if in concern. No, definitely in concern, and the would-be walls all around Henry softly squeezed inward around him. As much as he never would have admitted it, it was oddly – caring, and even oddly pleasant.

_“You okay?”_ John asked, gentle this time.

With an abrupt swallow, Henry blurted, “Yes. I— actually, yes. I am. I absolutely shouldn’t be, but… I am.”

And, in fact, he even meant that. Because, for the first time in a very long time, he really was.

**Author's Note:**

> [If you enjoy my writing, be sure to check out more (especially my original works) on my blog!](https://maverick-werewolf.tumblr.com/)


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